


Family Before Honor

by TheAceApples



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 'lawquane' is out. 'la'cuane' is in., Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Cut Lawquane (mentioned only), Cut Lawquane/Suu Lawquane (mentioned), GFY, Gen, Past Tense, Present Tense, because i'm a fickle bitch, that's three distinct syllables because filoni is a hack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-03-11 17:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/pseuds/TheAceApples
Summary: Desertion: an act of leaving military service or duty without the intention of returning.





	1. Two Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [norcumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/gifts).



> Based on Norcumi's heart-wrenching fic, "Dead Men Tell No Tales", in which "The Deserter" (SW:TCW 2.10) ended differently. Found here: https://norcumi.tumblr.com/post/167184976299/ok-i-give-im-gonna-admit-right-here-and-now-i

The pyre felt like the safest place for Captain Rex to look.

Everywhere else was ruined farmland or tearful civilians, but the pyre just held one more dead brother. Rex knew how to deal with that, at least: sound off, check weapons, inspect armor, finish the mission, remember his name, pay your debts...

It was that last one that was tripping him up. He owed the Republic his allegiance—his life—but he also owed the Lawquanes a husband, a father.

Rex darted a glance around the wreckage of the Lawquane homestead. He owed them a protector, too. Suu could defend herself well enough, he was sure, but she had two little ones to look after as well. Who was to stop more Separatist droids, or even just run-of-the-mill marauders, from hurting them—taking their livelihood?

And what about the farm itself? When he and the others arrived, Cut had been out delivering their first harvest. There was no way they could meet the demands of supporting themselves, plus whatever neighbors they had, with only a single full-grown adult. Two children could do scut-work, chores and the like, but the back-breaking hard-labor necessary on a farm? Suu wouldn't last more than a season or two.

It was all such a mess, one of his own making, and he had no godsdamned idea how to fix it.

“Dad used to say stuff like that, too,” a despondent voice said from below Rex’s useless elbow. He turned to see that Jek had, for whatever reason, come stand vigil next to him. At Rex’s confused look, the boy explained. “Whenever one of the machines would break, or the weather got bad, or pirates bothered one of the neighbors, he'd start swearing like that, instead of in Basic. Mom said it still counted, though, so he still got in trouble for it.”

Rex ducked his head, chagrined. He hadn't realized he'd been muttering under his breath while he thought, but at least it'd been in Mando’a. If it'd been in Basic, Suu would probably have blackened his eyes before she kicked him out, just for teaching her kids a soldier’s vocabulary.

“Don't, uh, don't repeat any of that, okay?” Rex coughed, shifting uncomfortably. “It's not stuff kids should go around saying.”

Jek nodded his little head seriously. “Dad told me and Shaeeah what it meant,” he said with a hint of mischief, and Rex tried not to blanch. The kid didn't didn't seem inclined to continue, though, just leaned against his leg with a sigh. “So, what do you remember about Dad?”

“Oh! Well, I—I didn't know him very well,” Rex stuttered, thrown by the shift. For the first time since the pyre had been lit, he avoided looking at it. It didn't feel safe, anymore. Jek slumped a little against his leg, though, so he gave it his best shot.

“Your father was… very brave. He stood by his convictions, and fought for what he believed was good and right. And even though that meant turning away from the Republic, it also meant finding you and your mother and sister. For him, protecting you all was the most important thing in the world, and I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t understand that sooner. He was a good man. I’m proud to call him my brother.”

It wasn’t quite right, didn’t convey the depths of respect and awe and regret he felt for his fallen brother, but it was all he could seem to manage. As the seconds passed by, each time he thought to say more, his throat closed up. His eyes burned. Rex wouldn’t insult Cut’s memory by pretending the cause was anything other than the grief that was catching up with him, hard and fast. The battle was long over, the pyre built and lit, and he’d had time to process. The tears and heartache were coming up on him, quick as the approaching dawn, and would no doubt hit him like a reek.

“Thank you,” said a soft, accented voice behind them. Rex twisted to see Suu and Shaeeah walking up to them, and cursed his damaged arm _again_ for keeping him from straightening properly. His brother's _riduur_ deserved his best work, and so far had only received his worst. “I know you don't have much to share during _Mi’sou_. That was very kind of you.”

Rex felt himself flush and, slightly desperate to change the subject, latched onto the other part of her statement. “ _Mi’sou_?”

Suu gave him a sad little smile. “A Twi’leki tradition—the Ceremony of Passing.” Flames reflected off the brown of her eyes in a way that made them look almost like a brother’s. “We commit the _ch’sei_ , our dead, to the fire and share memories of them to celebrate their life. Even while we mourn their loss.”

One of Shaeeah’s _lekku_ flicked listlessly on her shoulder, though she tried to smile bracingly at her mother's words. It was yet another punch to Rex’s gut, seeing the bounce gone from her step. The spark gone from her eyes. “Uncle Rex?” she said, tentative. “Do you really have to go? Still?”

“You're leaving?” Jek immediately yelped, jerking away from Rex’s leg to stare up at him with poorly disguised horror. “But—but what if the monsters come back? Or—or _pirates_?”

Guilt churned in Rex’s gut as he chucked the boy under the chin. “Sorry, kid,” he began, trying to smile reassuringly, “but I don't think—”

“Children,” Suu said, cutting him off. “Why don't you go to the kitchen and make something for us all to eat?”

The kids exchanged dubious looks with each other, but scampered inside when their mother added that they were— _“Just this_ _once”_ —allowed to have as much sugar as they wanted. Then she turned that steely brown gaze back on Rex.

“Captain.” Suu’s voice was harder than Rex had ever heard it, and he braced himself for what she had to say. “Cut and I discussed this before, and. Whatever happens, you will always have a place here. If you want it.”

All the breath left him in a _whoosh_. Like some kind of dam inside him breaking—probably the one that Kix liked to call “dangerous levels of emotional repression”—words spilled out of Rex in a harsh whisper. “You don't mean that. You _can’t…_ ”

One of Suu’s _lekku_ flicked in a way that looked deliberate as she fixed him with a stern look. “And why can't I mean it?” she demanded. “You protected me—you protected _my children_ —from those droids. You are the brother of my husband. Why _wouldn't_ I want you here?”

“It's—it's my fault Cut’s dead,” Rex answered helplessly. “Those droids wouldn't be here if not for me, if not for us. I practically pulled the trigger myself—”

“ _Did_ you?” Suu challenged, cutting him off and slowly advancing on him. “ _Did_ you pull the trigger and kill my husband?”

Rex couldn't help but recoil at the accusation. “Of course not! I would _never_ —”

“And did you build those droids—program them to destroy everything in their path—and then set them loose on the galaxy?”

“No, but—”

Suu was so close they almost touched as she glared down into his eyes. _“Did you kill my husband, Rex?”_ she snarled at him, looking one wrong word away from savaging him with nothing but teeth and nails. Like flipping a switch, the wordless shake of his head immediately softened her again. “Exactly. You did the best you could, Captain Rex. And I don't blame you for Cut’s death. You did your best…”

He exhaled shakily, eyes burning again. “I should have done better,” Rex said, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I should have _been_ better.”

“Captain,” she replied, voice careful, “did you know that my first husband died?”

Rex blinked at the question. “Uh, no, ma’am?”

She gave a humming kind of laugh and moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “The children don't remember him—he died when Jek was only a few months old, before this was ever a farm. I had to tend the vegetable garden and hunt enough for three just to keep us alive. It was a hard time.”

“Oh. Um.” He couldn't think of what to say in response; he was never very good at comforting civilians. “I'm. Very sorry to hear that. Suu.”

The Twi’lek hummed, resting more firmly against him, her bare arm a comforting line of heat against his. “I spent years working myself past the point of exhaustion to keep my children safe and warm and fed. It was beyond difficult or easy; it was beyond hope or despair. He was my One—the other half of my heart, of my soul—and I loved him with every fibre of my being.” She sighed heavily. “But when I needed him most, he wasn't there, and Cut was.”

“You mean you and Cut—” Rex cut himself off before he finished the question. Civilians found questions about their sexual relationships impolite. He fumbled for another moment before Suu laughed again—loud and shoulder-quaking.

“I love _eswo'Cut_ dearly as well, but what we had wasn't _eskaa'lia_. It was comfort and friendship and safety, but its nature simply wasn’t the same. A soldier could keep my children safer than I could by myself, and he fell in love with Shaeeha and Jek just as quickly as they did with him.”

“He loved you, too,” Rex heard himself say, a picture in his mind of his brother’s completely besotted expression while looking at his _riduur_. Cut had clearly loved her with a single-mindedness Rex had often seen in civilians, but rarely in other brothers. They tended to group together in fours and fives, oftentimes more but rarely less; the more partners you found, the less it hurt when one of them didn't come back from a mission.

Or so the theory went.

It had never helped him, or any other brothers that he knew of, but the thought of having only one or two brothers to hold and comfort him after a battle made Rex break out in cold sweat. The idea of having no one at all? It didn’t bear thinking about, honestly. That Cut had left them all behind but still managed to build up a similar relationship with a _civilian_ of all people was both surprising and… not.

Suu shifted her weight. “He did,” she finally agreed, her voice inscrutable. “But for a Twi’lek, it is different. My first husband and I went through _Jasshi’rr_ , the ceremony of Oneness, and that bound our souls together for eternity—even beyond death. Cut loved me dearly, yes, but he understood that and never pressed for more than I was capable, or inclined, to give.”

 _Civilians,_ Rex thought to himself. He’d never understand their strange inclination to pair off. Even simple triads were viewed as uncommon, let alone actual circles; and forget _overlapping_ circles at all. Past the concept of binding oneself to a single person for all their life, Rex was confused about one other thing…

“Why are you telling me this, Suu?”

“Because,” Suu replied, “I want you to understand. I have lost much, in my life. The family that raised me; the other half of my soul; and now the only father my children have ever known. I am strong— _we_ are strong—and we will get through this. I am not going to blame you for things beyond your control, any more than I blamed Cut.” She pulled away and Rex turned to face her. “So when I say that you are family, and we will help you if we can, then know that I _mean_ it.”

Rex nodded mutely and watched her make her way back into the farmhouse, thinking.

He had things waiting for him beyond this little farm. An entire war, actually, just waiting to swallow him whole and spit him back out, time and again until one day he didn’t make it out. He had soldiers to lead and brothers to protect; he had generals to look out for and a commander to train up. But… but Jesse was a good Lieutenant and would make a good Captain if need be; Rex wasn’t irreplaceable, by any means.

Cut, on the other hand, was different. He had children to raise, a _riduur_ to support, a farm to work—and no right-hand man to pick up the slack when he was gone. If Rex simply left, the Lawquanes would have to go back to struggling just to feed themselves; any outlaw with a blaster and a mind to cause trouble, or a bad enough storm, or even just an _illness_ could wipe them out altogether. Leading the 501st against the Seps, Rex would never even know if something happened to them.

He took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the pyre. It was no longer a roaring flame but a bed of low-burning embers. His brother’s body was nothing more than ash and dust, not even his identification chip would have survived…

Rex blinked.

If someone were to examine the remains, with no identification chip to scan, all that _could_ be determined was that the body was of a clone. Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase had left him in the barn hours before Cut had returned to the farmhouse and found him, half-crippled and practically defenseless. With the fields trashed, assassin droids strewn across the farm, and a family of terrified civilians the only witnesses, no one would think to question appearances.

And, when it came right down to it, the Lawquanes needed him far more than the war did.

Straightening up as much as he could, Rex dusted himself off and gave the remains of his lost brother one more sorrowful look. He owed them this. _“_ _K’dumi ruyot ash'amur—kyr'amur ret'lini,”_ he quietly recited, then turned away and followed Suu’s path back up to the house. They had a story to figure out, and only a couple days at most to get it right.

_“Let history die—kill it, just in case.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twi'leki  
>   
> Mi'sou: This was the ancient Twi’leki ceremony of Passing. What other species would call a funeral, it is through this ceremony that loved ones are honored by the sharing of memories to wish them well as they travel into communion with  
>   
> Kika’lekki. Twi’leks do not bury their dead. This is due mostly to the land on Ryloth being inhospitable for burial and to the fact that Twi’leks live underground and burial implies that those living in caves are dead. Instead, they burn their dead on on a pyre and let the body join the soul in the company of Kika’lekki  
>   
> ch'sei: Death, dead, and the deceased. It refers to the state of death as well as the deceased  
>   
> lekku: The Twi’lek name for their headtails, lekku was the plural form of the term lek. The lekku of a Twi’lek were used for many things, among them communications and the storage of memories. Subtle movements of the headtails were used to convey certain feelings and concepts, as part of a language known as Lekku. It is also the name of the sign language used by the Twi’lek race that involves a complex series of twitches and undulations of the lekku  
>   
> eswo: Beloved, or exceptionally favored; requires a noun/name, or part of a full name to make it meaningful  
>   
> eskaa'lia: Love (romantic)  
>   
> Jasshi'rr: This was the ancient Twi’leki ceremony of Marriage. Also known as a Oneness, it is a private ceremony consisting of 3 parts which follow strict formats. Through this ceremony, two Twi’leks are united eternally in mind, body and soul. This is a serious ceremony as Twi’leks do not believe in divorce or separation of those that have become One and two souls made One will remain One even after death
> 
> Mando'a  
>   
> riduur: spouse/partner  
>   
> “K’dumi ruyot ash'amur—kyr'amur ret'lini": "Let history die—kill it, just in case”, a fanmade Mando'a saying found here: http://thebisexualmandalorian.tumblr.com/post/168705294367  
>   
> Props: Norcumi for the idea, TheBisexualMandalorian for the saying, and Dogmatix for the concept of "circles", as found in their fic "Whiplash"


	2. Two Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Domestic:_   
>  _1) of or relating to the home, the household, household affairs, or the family._   
>  _2) no longer wild; tame._

Rebuilding the La’Cuane farm is an undertaking both larger and smaller than Rex had first estimated.

The first few days are an unending game of hurry-up-and-wait: for Republic forces to finish routing the Seps, for Jesse and the boys to come back to retrieve him when he didn't answer their comms, for Suu to sniffle and stutter her way through the story they'd cooked up to explain his ‘death.’

Then waiting for various scans of the remains to come up positive for Fett’s genetic material, for 'his' chip to come up too damaged to ping as more than simply present, for Kenobi—well, it turns out that Kenobi had a softer heart than Rex had ever thought. From what Rex spies, he looks damn near devastated for a few heartbeats after Suu tells him the news.

Then the children march up to him and Jesse, carrying Rex’s armor in their undersized little arms, and Jek loudly proclaims that they want to keep Rex’s bucket. “He was like a, a _superhero,”_ Jek says earnestly, and next to him Shaeeah nods vigorously. “He was so _brave_ and he saved us from the monsters and we'll take _really_ good care of it.”

Suu makes a little scene of chastising them, calling it disrespectful, saying that his _brothers_ should have his helmet, it was only _right._ Rex is dazed by the layers of manipulation they all go to just for him to keep his face; he's even more dazed by how well it works.

Kenobi clearly melts at the display but looks to Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase for the final decision. Rex can read the silent conversation between them as clear as day. When Jesse crouches down to gaze intently into the visor of Rex’s helmet, he knows the children have won.

“I think that's a good idea,” Jesse says decisively, and it's settled. Quieter, he adds, “I think he'd like that…”

Rex doesn't think about where Cut’s bucket had ended up.

Jek clutches the helmet to his chest in victory and Shaeeah smiles sweetly and Suu has this fond, exasperated look on her face that Rex assumes comes standard with being _eyn buir._ The children magnanimously offer the rest of his armor to the men, stacked as neatly as they could manage. Rex stares as Kenobi helps pack it away with the supplies for safekeeping, subtly pocketing his left vambrace as he does.

Rex doesn't think about maybes and what-ifs.

Then Kenobi turns back to Suu and his gaze goes past her to the ruined farmhouse and Rex gets the feeling that Kenobi’s about to do one of those terribly un-Jedi-like _things_ he had never, ever admitted to sometimes doing. He pulls out a credit chip and Rex _knows._

He has to turn away from the scene and take careful breaths. Kenobi wasn’t perfect—Cody has spent hours venting to Rex and Wolffe and whoever else managed to meet up at once about his hypocritical, sanctimonious Jedi—but just like Skywalker, just like Tano, just like Windu and Yoda and Secura and every other Jedi, he had his moments of breath-stealing _goodness._

Rex should’ve known his last act as a captain, and his first act as a free man, would be finally witnessing one of those moments.

And then Kenobi is gone, his brothers are gone, and the work begins.

\- - -

It’s slow-going, and at times back-breaking, and it quickly becomes apparent that the nerve-damage Kix had warned about has set in good and proper. After the children have gone to bed, Rex and Suu go outside to have a rousing argument about what to do—the first of many on the horizon.

Suu demands they use part of Kenobi’s credits to pay for surgery to remove and replace the dead arm; Rex counters that he can function with only one arm, but none of them can function without a roof over their heads and walls to shield them from the elements. Suu says that they will contact a doctor she knows on the other side of the planet tomorrow and that’s _final;_ Rex blinks, says _understood, sir,_ and stands down.

The next morning, between frying eggs and waking the little ones, Suu apologizes for 'pulling rank' on him. Rex can tell the words sit strangely in her civilian mouth. He accepts her apology and says nothing about how he hadn’t even noticed his own automatic reaction to her tone the night before, but. That was _exactly_ how he’d reacted, wasn’t it?

When next they argue, about him ‘overdoing it’ and ‘exerting himself too much’, he’s ready for the gut-punching Commanding Officer Voice and shouts back when it’s his turn to talk. It works for them.

\- - -

“White is death,” Rex explains once the final layer of base paint has settled on the plastoid. He runs his hand firmly down the prosthesis in its finalized form, from the ball of the synthetic shoulder to the tips of each finger. It’s as much to test that the molecules of paint bind properly as it is to get himself used to the difference. “White is the bones of those long gone. White is the snow that covers the fields in winter. It… stifles, and kills, but it’s also. Possibility, I suppose. White armor is shiny and new, but that just means it has yet to prove itself. You never know what you’re gonna get when you scratch beneath the surface.”

Hanging on his every word, Jek and Shaeeah nod breathlessly. They watch as he picks up a foam brush and dips it into a small pot of 501st blue. He sets it to the very top of the arm and brings it down in a smooth, careful, _practiced_ motion.

“Blue is reliability,” he continues. The unbroken line he draws down to the wrist is thinner than it was on his armor, but copying his armor isn’t the point; the point is to create something new out of its loss. “It’s faithfulness, and consistency. It’s the sky—the very air—and you can always in trust that.”

Lastly, he picks up a fine detail brush and dips it into a second pot.

“This one is different,” he says eventually, gauging his little cadets’ avid expressions. “You use _red_ to honor a parent and the word for ‘red’ in Mando’a is _ge’tal_ —literally, ‘almost blood.’ It’s a complicated word, because to Mando’ade, your family isn’t always going to _have_ the same blood as you. It might not be red at all—it might be green, or blue, or something else entirely. But with family, you’re always ready to spill others’ or your own in order to protect them; it’s about honor… and love.”

“Mom,” Shaeeah deduces, her voice quiet as a mouse as they all gaze at the sharp, cutting magenta that coats the brush.

Rex nods.

“Just so.” He twirls the brush around and offers it to them. “Now, what should we do with it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "lawquane" is a awful name and awful pronunciation and dave filoni can meet me in the fucking pit
> 
> dr. izzy o. coffee has a lot of really great mandalorian metas and here are the ones i used for armor colors:  
> http://izzyovercoffee.tumblr.com/post/159657782785/this-is-probably-a-really-stupid-question-but-im  
> http://izzyovercoffee.tumblr.com/post/159831002185/is-there-anything-you-can-tell-me-about-mando  
> http://izzyovercoffee.tumblr.com/post/170707511310/hattahightopp-replied-to-your-postwhispers


End file.
